


the good times are killing me

by Senpai_Lyrik



Category: South Park
Genre: Bottom Craig, Collaboration, Kinda raunchy at parts, M/M, Modest mouse references LOL, Smut, Top Stan, band au, craig has a crush on kenny, craig just films the shows, eventually, slow burn probably, stan is a guitarist, starts sleeping with stan to 'get over it', they fall in love, will have fluff eventually, yall know me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senpai_Lyrik/pseuds/Senpai_Lyrik
Summary: Romance is dead.At least Craig believed in this for years after the divorce, and his and Tweeks breakup. Right now Craig doesn't want to feel what he feels towards Kenny. So sloppy sex with Stan  seems like a good way to get over it. Until he starts to get a little too close for comfort to Stan.Stan loves Wendy. But they take a break, for the millionth time as Wendy pursues bigger things. Stan starts a friends with benefits relationship with Craig and realizes that maybe it might be a bit too easy for him to fall into bed with him. That maybe he's thinking way too hard into how pretty Craig is when Stan can accomplish making him smile.The sex is good too. Although maybe it didn't start off as so.Commitment is hard when you're scared or conflicted. The sex may be good but until something gives, the good times are killing them.





	the good times are killing me

**Author's Note:**

> My fiance and I love Staig. So here is our little au we were discussing. hmmmm.
> 
> Edit: My fiance helps me write the outlines for this, initially we were going to write this together, but I don't want to work with his pace. So I'll write it in it's entirety.

It’s cold in the winter of South Park. It’s always cold there, really. Craig Tucker lets a sigh escape him and it falls from his lips in a cloud of condensation. The grip Craig has on the straps of his backpack tightens. In it’s little confines Craig has the fancy video camera that he got as a graduation gift a few years back.

 

This is not exactly what Craig intended to do on his Saturday night; there is a paper due for his psychology class in a few days. The intention was to stay up for the majority of the weekend and power through finishing it. So when Craig got bombarded with notification after notification from the group chat on facebook; he let out a long suffering sigh. Craig put a halt to his writing and research to check. Only to find out there was a gig for his cliques band. Craig’s not in said band, while there may have been a few incidents where he sung with Tweek in public; even joining in on that stupid High School Musical fad. Craig did not like to be on stage. There was no interest in the attention, or all eyes staring into him. People Craig barely knew professing their love for music and a romanticized version of Craig was not ideal

 

Craig likes things tame, a bit boring. Being in the limelight is not so. Performing music Craig always found to be vulnerable, even. As in when you sing, your emotions are conveyed through your voice. When you play instruments, its transferred from your fingertips and into the soul of a song.

 

So really, when Cartman told Craig he was a snaggletooth bitch and that Craig will be behind the scenes filming, there was no turn down or denial. Craig didn’t want any involvement at all; but at the very least, he can get free booze.

  
With this all in mind, Craig pushes open the door to the bar. It’s one of the nicer ones on the outskirts of town. Has a little stage and a few dressing rooms in the back. It’s not the greatest place Head South! has performed. Not the first or last, either. However, if the band is anything it’s loyal. Craig’s friends all equally hate South Park and will forever have it’s shit occurrences, mistakes and memories stuck in their heads. For that, they return home to it for the fans that remain stagnant there as much as they’ll have it glued inside them, too.

 

The lighting is dim in the bar. It’s crowded but not overly so. It’s not hard for Craig to push his way through to the stages stairs. Find his placement at the side to set up his equipment. Head South! Is to come on stage in about five minutes. Craig usually isn’t late to anything if it’s important. Always a tad bit early to things that require professionalism. However, this isn’t something Craig really finds all that important nor something that had the time to really prepare for like it was of importance. So Craig quickly sets up his tripod, sloppily tampers with the settings and presses record as Kenny Mccormick steps out onto the stage.

 

Kenny always comes out first, really. The front man to Head South! Maybe it’s because Kenny was always the quiet one, the one overlooked. When the band was being formulated Kenny jumped up into the spotlight.

 

 _“I can do it.”_ Kenny said in a muffled up voice under his parkas hood. Everyone looked to him in that moment, they all knew Kenny to the point that when he did speak, it was understood. Even if it sounded incomprehensible to anyone else.

 

Kenny didn’t bloom like a flower after that moment. There was still a quiet; a reservation and watchful eye over everyone and everything, observant. However, when he was singing Kenny was something else completely. Like any pain Kenny has ever endured is transferred from his heart to being thrown out of his mouth.

 

In the current moment, Kennys fingers curl around the mic after adjusting the height. Craig looks down at what recording, zooming in on Kenny as the other band members take their placements. Kyle on the bass, Stan on Guitar, Tweek on Keyboards and Cartman on drums.

 

Finally, Kenny open his mouth. The crowd grows quiet as they see Kenny is about to speak to them. It’s as if it’s the most important thing in the world. Really, Craig thinks that coming from Kenny; that maybe it is. It comes to the forefront of Craig’s mind and instantly is smothered.

 

“Hello, South Park,” Kenny speaks into the mic. There audience lets out some hollering in response. Craig can see the smile forming on Kenny face from the little screen in front of him. It dawns on Craig that the footage is just Kenny for the entirety of the 6 minutes that has been filming. Craig blinks at that, and moves the camera to focus briefly on anything else. The view lands on Stan, Craig keeps it there for a good second. Then switches over to the other band mates. Quickly moving back to Kenny as there is more he is too say. Though not all too much, Craig knows the band. Knows how they work.

 

“You’re listening to Head South. Thanks for coming.” Kenny lets out, a laugh leaving his mouth. Kenny steps away a bit from the mic stand. Kenny is a dancer and performer through and through. Craig stays on him for a few seconds as Kenny sways a bit. Stan starts up the guitar, drums following soon after. Craig switches the view again to Stan, zooming in to a close up of Stan’s hand strumming out the tune.

 

The drums follow in suite, Craig zooms out to get Cartman getting the beat in. Kyle coming in with the bass.

 

_“Traveling, Swallowing, Dramamine…”_

 

*

 _“...So you think you figured out everything.”_ It’s the last song of the night. Craig has removed the large jacket that was draped over his frame . Sweat clings to Craig’s body, to his forehead. The crowd is what Craig is focusing on at this point. They sing the last few lines as Kenny points the mic to them.

 

_“But we know that our minds are just made out of strings to be pulled.”_

 

Considering how soft the song is, it isn’t expected to have such a loud crowd singing it. It works, though. With the final closing lyrics, Kenny takes a final bow. Ever the drama queen on the stage.

 

It’s all over after that. Kenny doesn’t say words of departure but waves to the crowd, back turned. Craig records this, the last moment of the concert. When Craig gets home later that night it’s all to be cut up and revised to flow better. Strange enough, it was Kenny who Craig learned to do filmography with. Even after animals close up with a wide angle lens, the two continued doing projects together.

 

Kenny dipped on their thing when they hit middle school, the two remained somewhat close. Though when their group of friends merged in sixth grade, Craig was a bit of the odd one out. Everyone thought he was a bit of a dick, and to this day Craig is still considered the asshole of the group; outside of the obvious--Cartman. Never really getting invited to group events or social outings. Craig probably could be involved, if he pushed like Cartman. Craig doesn’t though. Whatever the case, Craig continued doing video editing as a side thing. Though really, there is no reason to. It wasn’t really fun without anyone to do it with or a reason to, like being cruel and trying to one up Stan’s gang. Or without Kenny, really.

 

With Craig’s head dipped to look over the footage, he makes way to the dressing room. The stage is all packed up. So Craig expects to find everyone there.

 

However, they aren’t. The room is empty except for Stan who has his attention down on the phone in sweaty hands. Stans guitar is leaning onto the arm of the couch, on the floor next to the sofa. Craig lets out a sigh. Right.

 

Craig crosses the distance to Stan, takes a seat next to him. Stan keeps his attention down at his phone. Really, they may be in the same lumping of people--but they aren’t close.

 

So they don’t really acknowledge each other. It’s quiet and thick with it. Craig pulls up the footage again, looks over Kenny. Craig can’t understand why, but he can watch footage of Kenny for hours. Craig does. Hazel eyes watch over Kenny’s departing frame from the stage, lids low hanging. Craig is about to rewind it again, probably would have done so if it weren’t for Stan speaking up.

 

“Kenny’s pretty fucking sick, huh?” Stan grabs at Craig’s attention. Craig snaps the pull out screen of the video camera closed. There is no reason to be embarrassed but Craig is. There is no moment where Craig drags his gaze to Stan. Keeps those eyes down at the hands wrapped around the camera.

 

“I guess.” Craig lets out in the usual apathy and dry. Stan doesn’t keep his attention on Craig for long. Craig can hear the tapping of words being typed out onto Stan’s phone.

 

They aren’t close, really. However-they’ve known each other their whole lives. They have been in the same circle for years. Craig is itching to know where Kenny has went. Craig’s metal coated top row of teeth come down on the flesh of his lower lip. Craig shouldn’t care. Really, there should be no fucks given.

 

However, there is. Craig really, really wants to talk to Kenny. Feels like it’s been ages since they have.

 

“Where did he go?” Craig pries. It’s simple enough and doesn’t have to mean anything. Stan presses down on the power button of his phone. Looks to Craig, the closed off demeanor that is always present.

 

“Uh, I don’t know dude? With some groupie, I think.” Craig doesn’t have to look at Stan to know that Stan is shrugging his shoulders. Craig lets out a sigh. Right. Craig doesn’t care. Kenny’s notorious for sleeping around. It’s not like Craig is in love with Kenny or anything. Why should Craig give a fuck if Kenny went to fuck some person he barely knows?

 

It’s not like Craig’s any _better_.

 

It’s still there though, coursing hot anger rushing through Craig’s veins like poison. Craig takes a breath in.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Craig questions Stan. Stan puts his phone in his pocket, lets out a sigh as if to say he really doesn’t want to.

 

“I mean yeah, dude.” Stan answers. Isn’t that awfully polite. Craig turns to the other, looks Stan dead in the eyes. It’s not something Craig is really _good_ at. Looking at people. Craig hates it. It’s vulnerable and overwhelming.

 

Craig is about to ask a question that could lead to exactly what he wants or something extremely awful. Embarrassing at the least. However, Craig Tucker doesn’t back down or go down without a fight. So he speaks up.

 

“Would you fuck me?” It’s blunt, and Craig watches as Stans open and almost kind face flushes red. Confusion and embarrassment--maybe arousal? Being stricken across Stan’s countenance.

 

“What! Dude! Don’t you--aren’t you super anti relationships?” It’s true, Craig is anti love and relationships. Has been since Thomas cheated on Laura. Has been since he realized that romance? Dead. It’s been glaringly in Craig’s face for years, every example set for romance being Laura broken hearted. Craig filling in the space of care taker for Laura, and then Tricia. Thomas isn’t his biological dad. Craig doesn’t know that man. So yeah, anti relationships. It’s why he and Tweek broke up after a fist fight in fifth grade.

 

Love and sex have never been the same thing, or interlaced for Craig after that.

 

“Just answer the question.” Craig demands it, and Stans brows furrow, looking up at Craig through dark lashes. Still red in the face.

 

“I mean? Yeah? Yeah, you’re attractive dude.” Stan answers the question. Craig lifts his chin a little. The anger is a bit relieved. Though, there is still something there. Something ugly and foreign that Craig doesn’t like or want to understand. It’s sadness and hurt but also a bit of arousal. Arousal isn’t all too uncommon. Craig tries to stifle being hurt by Kenny. Numbs it like it’s something forbidden.

 

Craig is content most days. Okay with where he is, the decisions he’s made and the distance he has. Right now he’s not.

 

If Craig  has to throw himself at Stan Marsh to get rid of these ugly feelings--to remind himself how fleeting relationships are, how stupid it is to feel anything towards Kenny he will.

 

“Would you right now?” Craig pries again. Stan blinks at Craig, his own chin raises. Lips parting ever so slightly.

 

“...what?” Stan questions, pupils a bit blown. Craig begins to move, closer to Stan. Going to sit in his lap. Slender fingers rests on Stan’s cheek where Craig runs his finger across Stan’s lower lip.

 

“Would you fuck my asshole? Now? You’re on break with Wendy. She’s miles away. Yes or no?” Craig questions as Stans eyes flick down to Craig’s lips. Stans own lips are parted ever the slightest.

 

Craig is not one to back down. He’s not. But Craig does loosen his hold. Thinking that maybe Stan needs to think about it, or Craig is going to be rejected.

 

As soon as Craig goes to stand, Stan pulls him back down into his grasp.

 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll fuck you up.” Stan says as he places his hands on Craig’s bony hips. Craig can’t help the smallest of a smirk that begins to form on his lips.

 

They fuck. In every sense of the word. Stan pushing Craig down onto the couch. Nasty and harsh. Pulling down Craig’s pants and his dick comes free from it’s confinement. Stan wraps his hand around the length, yanking at Craig as he pulls down the sweat pants covering him up. Craig keeps his composure. Letting little pants fall from his mouth, but never letting the whimpers that sit in the back of his throat come out.

 

Stan presses fingers to Craig’s lips, expecting him to open up and coat them with Craig’s saliva. Craig complies, and Stan watches as Craig sucks his fingers off. Craig’s lips wrapped around them as Stan fucks his mouth.

 

“Fuck…” Stan lets out as he pulls his fingers out. Tips still brushing against the soft pink of Craig’s lips.

 

“This will hurt. Are you-”  
  
“I want it to.” Craig retorts sharply. He does. He wants to feel something, anything other than the bullshit he is. So Craig juts his hips up, ass brushing against Stan’s dick.

 

Stan looks down at him for a few seconds. Then begins to move, begins to position himself and then push into Craig’s hole. He’s slow with it, and it hurts. Craig’s walls are wrapping around Stan’s cock. It hurts, but it feels good too. When Stan’s deep in him, Craig turns his head to the side. To the mirrors in the room reflecting their actions. Craig’s face is sweaty, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He’s thin and ugly. Craig’s legs thrown over Stan’’s shoulders. Stan is thicker and looks down at Craig.

 

“Don’t hold back.” Craig mumbles out. Stan lets out a noise at that. It’s rough sounding, but Stan begins to move. Thrusting in, out, in and out.

 

Craig tilts his head back to the ceiling. Stan presses kisses to Craig’s neck, collarbone. Anywhere but Craig’s lips, which Craig refuses. That’s one boundary that Craig won’t let Stan into.

 

Soon enough they both have cum, Stan first. Who pulls out, yanks at Craig’s dick until completion.

 

They fall asleep in that dressing room. Craig moving to be on top of Stan, resting his head on his chest. Craig wraps his arms around  himself while Stan pulls Craig’s too big jacket over their frame.

 


End file.
